


Black and White Mocha

by Hella_Queer



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Shiro, Drunk Sex, Half Brothers, Incest, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Started as a discord Drabble, The smallest hint of piss kink ever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-10-30 15:41:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17831399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hella_Queer/pseuds/Hella_Queer
Summary: Shiro is a popular guy, he likes to party, and Keith always turns down his invites cause he doesn’t wanna cramp his style or ruin the fun or get jealous anytime someone flirts with his gorgeous big brother, so he usually stays home. Which is the case tonight.Keith and Shiro have always been close. Tonight, they get a lot closer.





	Black and White Mocha

**Author's Note:**

> My initial note sounded like I was ashamed of writing this. I’m not. You see the tags. Welcome to the Folgers Verse.  
> (Also it’s not mentioned at first but this takes place a week after Keith turns 18)

Shiro is a popular guy, he likes to party, and Keith always turns down his invites cause he doesn’t wanna cramp his style or ruin the fun or get jealous anytime someone flirts with his gorgeous big brother, so he usually stays home. Which is the case tonight. 

He’s got the place to himself, which means he doesn’t get in trouble for cursing up a storm when he gets a text from Matt saying Shiro is on the front porch half out of his mind. Shiro beams at Keith when he answers the door. 

“Kitty!” He’s so fucking loud too like they don’t have neighbors. Keith blushes without fail at the old nickname and hauls him inside, thanking Matt and vowing never to complain about his bad taste in music. Shiro could be on some gross ass couch or someone’s lawn or face down in a pool. He was a useless, lovable drunk, which meant he was a catalyst for trouble. 

“How hard did you hit it tonight?” They’re stumbling into the kitchen, Keith supporting his weight. Shiro’s costume is ridiculous. A skintight leather bodysuit and boots. A collar with a tiny gold bell. Cat ears. He said earlier he was some kind of superhero. 

Keith can see the print of dick without trying, tucked to the left as always. 

“Sooo hard,” Shiro confesses. He looks down at his slightly exposed chest, the zipper almost to his belly button. “Body shots. Lots of body shots.”

Lots of people licking and sucking and touching him in what was basically black shrink wrap.

Keith props him up against the counter and goes to get a tall glass of ice water. When he turns back Shiro is peeling his upper body out of the suit, fingers slow and clumsy. Keith can’t help but stare. 

Then he frowns. 

Then he scowls. 

“Why are your nipples so puffy?”

Shiro hums, freeing his right arm finally. It takes him a minute to hear Keith’s words, and when he does he shamelessly reaches up to squeeze his pecs in wonder. “Body shots.”

“.. so you just let total strangers.. suck on your chest..”

Shiro pouts. “ _No!_ They’re m’friends not strangers.”

Keith bites the inside of his cheek, fingers tightening on the glass. Shiro always complained when the fabric of his shirts were too rough on his nipples, when they scratched. He keeps talking about getting them pierced despite that. Keith dies a little every time it’s brought up.

Keith, in a fit of insanity, fishes an ice cube out of the glass and, when he’s close enough, presses it to a dark pink bud. 

Shiro doesn’t swat him away like he normally would. He doesn’t put Keith in a headlock and try to pour the water down his shirt. 

He _moans_ , arching into the cold with an involuntary jerk.

Keith swallows his own moan, acting in a detached sort of way. He circles the melting ice in slow circles, moving to the other when the first is suitable erect. 

“Does this,” Shiro chokes, gripping the counter, shivering. “Does this h-help?”

Keith grunts, clearing his head. “Ice helps with swelling. Aren’t you learning anything at school besides how to—“ He stops short, lips twisting to the side. 

“How to what?” Shiro has his confused pouty face on, twitching when Keith slides the ice lower to a few kiss bruises on his chest. 

_How to be a slut_. 

“How to be an even bigger dork thank you already are.”

Keith tosses the ice into the sink and presses the glass into Shiro’s hand. “Drink,” he commands, and fights back a grin when Shiro complies. 

He could never say no to Keith. He didn’t even try, not even when he was pissed. A ride to the mall, help with homework, money, the last slice of pizza. Shiro’s friends always joked about him being wrapped around Keith’s finger. 

He never denied it.

Shiro polishes off the glass in a few big gulps, and Keith refills. He pats the counter, urging Shiro to sit. 

He does, the bell on his collar jingling. 

Keith starts unlacing his ridiculous shoes, fingers digging into his calf as he pulls at the heel to get it off. 

“Where did you even get this outfit?” He let’s the first boot clatter to the floor, body tensing out of habit before remembering it’s just the two of them until tomorrow morning.

He’s unlacing the other boot when Shiro answers, voice oddly quiet. 

“Sen picked it out.”

Sen. 

“ _Sendak?_ ”

Sendak was one of Shiro’s _friends_. Always polite to their parents, high grades. He and Keith had a mutual dislike for each other which started when Keith turned fifteen and Shiro, for the first and last time ever, left his birthday dinner early to ‘hang out’ with him. 

“Said it would look good..” Shiro won’t meet his eyes, gaze cast down at his one lone foot. “S’it bad?”

It’s a very Shiro question, that hint of self doubt that appeared at the worst of times. His brother was too sweet for his own good, heart too open. 

Sendak liked to bite his shoulders when they fucked. Keith has seen enough morning afters to know. He checks his shoulders now, freeing his left arm from the tight material. Relief floods him when he finds the skin bare and untouched. 

“You look fine. Finish that.”

Shiro’s smile could melt the polar ice caps. He drinks more, sighing and wiggling in satisfaction once Keith finally gets his other shoe off.

Keith goes for the collar next, stepping in between Shiro’s legs that open wider to accommodate him. He reaches behind his neck and feels for the clasp.

“Keith?” 

“Mm?” It’s a small one which is annoying. He can’t quite get a hold of it. 

“Think I gotta pee.”

Keith huffs, stretching his arms out and pressing closer. “Hold it for a sec, I’m trying to get this stupid thing off.”

Shiro’s foot rhythmically nudges Keith’s thigh, his breaths a little too loud. When Keith finally gets his nail under the clasp Shiro whines. 

Keith notices the movement of his arm as an afterthought. 

“Shiro,” he murmurs, staring blankly at the cabinets over his shoulder. “What are..”

“If I.. if I’m hard I won’t.. i can hold it better.”

Keith closes his eyes, holding his breath. He must truly hate himself deep down because he _looks_. Shiro rubs and squeezes the prominent bulge in his suit, nice and slow. 

“Kitty,” Shiro sighs, head lolling to the side. “Hurry up and get it off, please?” He gathers the energy to open his eyes, and Keith nearly swallows his tongue. 

He’s gotten a lot of looks from Shiro over the years, but never one like this. It’s pure heat, candy melting on hot metal. He doesn’t mean it. He’s drunk and acting out of character and Keith...

Keith is weak.

“L-let me..” Keith’s hands glide down Shiro’s arms, squeezing his biceps, nails gently scratching down to his wrists. “Let’s trade.”

Shiro shakes under his hands, a flush building across his nose, creeping down his neck. He holds Keith’s gaze with an alarming clarity before moving his hands away from his lap. 

Keith doesn’t hesitate and palms his dick through the leather.

“Keith?”

“Take his collar off.”

Puberty sucked, but Keith came out on the other side taller, and with the ability to deepen his voice in a way he knew turned a few people on. Shiro swallows twice before reaching up with trembling hands to finally remove the collar. He drops it carelessly to the floor, and Keith kicks it away.

“That’s better,” he says, almost smiling as his eyes follow the line of stars that cover the right side of Shiro’s neck. Four pretty symbols in a soft curve leading back towards his ear, symbolizing the four years that separate their ages. Shiro got them done when he was sixteen, and Keith, the little secret sap he was, cried into his chest for half an hour. 

“Why did he make you wear that?” He asks, the heel of his hand rubbing circles against the widest part of Shiro’s dick. “Why did you let him cover me up?”

Shiro grabs his shoulder and pulls him closer, legs wrapping around his waist. He fights back the urge to thrust up into Keith’s hand, and Keith slows his touches. 

“I don’t let anyone kiss me here.” He touches the stars, squeezing Keith’s shoulder. “I won’t let anyone do it, won’t let them cause.. cause that’s you. Yours Keith.”

Keith cups the back of his head and leans in close, nosing the line of stars, lips barely touching Shiro’s skin. 

“Mine?” 

A dog barks a few houses down, and reality peels away the layer of arousal and possession that cover Keith. He takes in Shiro’s flushed cheeks, his bright eyes, pink parted lips and heaving chest. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?” Keith puts space between them, wiping his hands on his sweatpants and drawing in deep breaths to steady his nerves. 

Shiro slowly lowers himself to the floor, the top of his suit hanging off of his hips, ears slipping down the back of his head. He’s hard, flushed, barefoot and stumbling. 

Keith’s heart lurches with him, and he wraps his arm around his waist as he leads him upstairs to the bathroom.

Keith sets Shiro against the sink as he goes to warm up the shower. This entire night has been incredibly surreal, and all he wants is to—

“Help?” Shiro calls behind him. Keith turns his head and chokes, abruptly looking down. The suit is stuck around Shiro’s thick ass thighs, and his heavy cock swings with every futile attempt to free himself. 

“...You’re killing me, Taka,” he sighs, going over and getting on his knees to tug the tight fabric down. Shiro leans back against the counter, pushing the ears off into the sink behind him, letting Keith do all the work. 

“Always taking care of me,” Shiro says fondly, carding his fingers through Keith’s hair. Keith looks up, and gets an eye full of the glistening head of his cock.

Time slows to a crawl, and all of Keith’s senses rush to set themselves on fire. He looks up at Shiro, accidentally coy, and finds heated gray eyes pinning him to the spot.

“Did anybody touch you tonight?” Keith whispers, hands climbing strong, muscled legs to hold tight to Shiro’s hips. “Did you let anyone touch you? Besides the body shots?”

Shiro bites his lip, brow furrowing as he sways. He grips the counter harder and hums. “Danced. Lots of people weren’t wearing much...”

Keith signs his soul away to the devil with one hand and grips the base of Shiro’s cock with the other. “Did you let anyone kiss you?”

“No.” Fast and without hesitation. 

“Why not?” Keith’s voice is nothing more than a whisper, tongue catching the bead of precome that drips from the leaking head. 

And Shiro looks so hurt, so needy, so lost. He tugs Keith closer, lips parted, eyes closing with a little whine. 

“Cause they weren’t you.”

The primal lion in Keith’s chest roars in satisfaction. The wrongness of tonight, the escalation and risk all turn to smoke. He strokes Shiro’s cock in long, slow pulls, kissing the wet tip when his foreskin is out of the way. 

“Did you miss me, Takashi?” Keith doesn’t take Shiro into his mouth, but he licks his dick like a melting ice cream cone. Teasing. Slowly pushing toward the edge but not nearly enough to get there. “Did you wish I was there?”

Shiro nods, so open and honest, heart in the center of his forehead. “Wish I stayed home with you. Wished you had danced on me.” His hips twitch, smearing precome across Keith’s chin. 

“Is that why you came home early?” Shiro loved to party, and Keith was prepared to see him in the morning. He’d have a plate of eggs and water waiting, a temple massage and a quiet cuddle session on the couch. 

“Matt said I kept askin for you,” Shiro confesses. “Kept looking for you. _Missed you._ ”

Keith’s heart falls over, thudding on the way down to his stomach.

“Would you let me kiss you?” 

“... I’d let you do so much more than that.” 

Keith moans, taking Shiro too fast and too deep. He chokes but he doesn’t care, letting Shiro guide him to a better pace. He’s hot and heavy on his tongue, thick enough to spread his lips wide enough to hurt. Keith doesn’t have a lot of experience sucking dick. In the few times he’s gotten farther than a handjob in a bathroom stall he was on the receiving end of things. But he knows what he likes, he knows what he’d want if Shiro was on his knees for _him_. 

But he’s too eager for proper form. He sucks on the head like he would a popsicle, tongue circling and curling along the slit. He coaxes Shiro’s hips to rock forward, gagging with every too fast thrust, moaning with every tug of his hair. He reaches up to play with his balls, squeezing and rolling them between his fingers. His taste is heady and salty and Keith whines when Shiro pulls him off.

They stare at each other, both breathing hard. The shower is still running. 

“Do you need help washing up?”

“... please.”

Keith strips, tank top and sweats falling in a pile on top of Shiro’s suit. He’s hard, cock flushed dark pink, curving up towards his belly. He herds Shiro into the shower, basking in the way his Adonis of a brother checks him out. 

The water is still warm, blessedly, and Keith leans back against the far wall as Shiro stands under the spray and makes all of his hormone fueled wet dreams come true. He’s naked and dripping, water washing over his skin. He doesn’t have any hickeys or scratches down his back, and he washes his chest clean of the mouths that tried to claim him. 

Dark gray eyes pin Keith to the wall as Shiro looks him over. 

“Would you let me kiss you, Kitty?” 

“I want you to do so much more than that.”

Shiro falls against him and Keith holds him up and their first kiss is nothing and everything like he imagined. 

Shiro’s lips are warm and soft and he holds Keith like he’s been waiting lifetimes to touch him. His hands cradle his face, tilting his head to the side to deepen the kiss, and Keith locks his legs so he doesn’t shake to the floor. 

Keith isn’t so inexperienced that he can’t give as good as he gets. He licks his way into Shiro’s mouth, one hand on his hip, the other on the side of his neck.

Keith’s hands find their way to Shiro’s ass, and it’s like rolling down a window when the music is blaring. Shiro moans, greedy and longing, getting louder when Keith yanks him forward, when he kneads the soft, muscled flesh and rocks their hips together. Slow, rolling grinds that make Shiro pound a fist into the wall before pulling back. 

“Where’d you learn all this?” Shiro slurs against his temple, tender kisses in wet hair that make Keith’s heart pulse in time with his dick. 

“Just cause I’m not at your parties doesn’t mean I don’t go to others.” 

Shiro grunts, turning his gaze downward. He pushes Keith’s hair out of his face, lips warm against his forehead. 

“You’ve been letting other people touch you, little brother?”

“Just following your lead.”

The kisses are significantly less tender after that.

Shiro rubs against his hip, pinning him to the wall, and all Keith can think about is the countless number of times he’s seen Shiro half naked. Years of sharing a bathroom, going swimming together, trips to the gym. None of those glimpses did his brother justice, and if Keith doesn’t get _something_ he just might scream. 

He pushes Shiro back a bit and grabs the nearest bottle he can. He wrinkles his nose at the floral body wash but doesn’t wanna waste anymore time. 

“Keith don’t put that—“

“I’m not, shut up.” He pours maybe too much in his palm and lathers up his thighs, smearing the rest on Shiro’s chest in an attempt to make his hand less slippery. He turns, bracing himself against the wall. 

“C’mere,” he says, looking over his shoulder and nodding at Shiro to come closer.

Solid arms wrap around his waist and a hard chest presses flush against his back. Shiro noses at the nape of his neck, kissing the skin there. 

“Baby.”

Keith flinches, squeezing his eyes shut. “D-don’t call me that. Not if you don’t mean it.” Shiro was incredible, and between the stint of semi-steady boyfriends he’s had a lot of dates. Keith never heard him use pet names with any of them, but he doesn’t want to give in to the hope in his heart. 

This was a drunken mistake to forget and repress in the morning. Nothing more.

Shiro nips at his shoulder, licks a line of warm water up his neck to the spot just below his ear. 

“Kitty,” he says fondly, hugging him closer. 

“Keith,” he sighs longingly, hand going to his hip while the other wraps securely around his chest. His cock nudges the back of his leg and Keith presses his thighs together. 

The sound Shiro makes when he pushes through the tight, slippery seal is enough to make Keith sob out a moan. 

“ _Baby._ ”

Shiro’s cock feels so fucking big, rubbing against his balls, slipping between the sensitive skin of his thighs. He pushes Keith’s back into an arch and pulls him back into each thrust, and Keith wishes he didn’t sound so damn needy. 

“Fuck, Keith,” Shiro groans, tightening his hold on his hips. He ruts faster, the lingering alcohol in his system screwing with his stamina. “Would’ve taken you just like this at the party.”

Keith laughs, a short choked sound. “Liar. S’fucking nasty, Takashi.” He rubs his thighs together like he would in the cold, looking down to catch the head of Shiro’s cock poking between his legs. “I’m your—“

“Baby,” Shiro says, breaths growing heavy. “So bad, Kitty, never wanted to see you like that. Was supposed to be— _ah fuck, tighter_ —wanted to be good to you.”

Keith preens at the hidden words, at the knowledge that he wasn’t alone in his forbidden attraction. Someone like Shiro would normally never give him the time of day, but they weren’t exactly normal. Not anymore. Maybe not ever. 

“How long have you—“

Shiro makes a sound of protest, forehead pressed to Keith’s shoulder. “Don’t ask. Please I-I’m so sorry, Keith.”

So... a while then. Keith melts.

Keith starts pushing back, a desperate almost frantic edge to his movements. “C’mon, Shiro, fuck me like you mean it.”

Shiro flatness him to the wall, leaving no space between them. He reaches down and gets a hand around Keith’s cock, teasing at the head with his thumb and forefinger. Keith shouts, the sound bouncing off the tiles.

Shiro kisses the side of his neck, worrying a tender spot between his teeth. It’s going to leave a mark that Keith will have to hide or explain away. A physical reminder that this happened, that Shiro _wanted him_.

Keith comes with a broken moan, tears sliding down his cheeks. He turns his head and though the angle is awkward, kisses Shiro with everything he has. He reaches down between his legs, fingers rubbing Shiro’s cock where it rests snug between the plush, heated skin. 

“Come in me,” Keith begs, a hiccup jerking his shoulders. “C’mon, fill me up, _please._ ”

Shiro sounds like he’s choking as he comes all over Keith’s fingers, thrusting slowly through the waves of pleasure that threaten to pull him under.

But he’s not finished. 

Another wave hits him from below the first, and they both moan as liquid warmth paints Keith’s thighs and trickles down to their feet. 

Keith turns and surges up to kiss him, hard and clumsy with afterglow. Shiro feels even more unstable than before, more and less drunk in different ways. 

They rinse off. They dry off. Shiro doesn’t let Keith kiss him again until they’re in his room. A lot of things that used to mark the space have been moved to boxes that sit in the garage, waiting to be carted off to his and Matt’s new apartment. 

It hits Shiro then that, soon, he’ll be the farthest away from Keith that he’s ever been in their entire lives. 

He kisses him then, a desperate and confused collision that has them both stumbling over to the bed. They fall, tangling up in each other, and for a while everything is warm and calm and safe. For a while they’re exactly where they need to be. 

And then Shiro pulls away, something hard nudging his hip. 

“Seriously, dude?” 

“Oh I’m sorry, grandpa. Should I get your pills so you can get it up again?”

Shiro rolls his eyes, tugging on Keith’s hair a bit harder than he intended. They both freeze after Keith moans, loud and breathless. Something to try again later. 

Except there wasn’t going to be a later. There couldn’t be. 

“You still got lube in here?” Keith asks, looking around at the bare bones room. He rolls them with surprising strength until Shiro is on his back, Keith fitting between his legs. His big, warm, muscular thighs flex, and Keith bites his lip, wanting so badly to mark every inch of them. 

“A little, yeah,” Shiro murmurs, turning away to root around in his bedside drawer. He comes back with a near empty bottle of lube, looking embarrassed. 

“Didn’t you buy that last... week.” Keith remembers him and Matt loudly clomping through the house a few days before his birthday, demanding he keep his eyes closed while they wrapped his gifts. Matt had teased Shiro about getting distracted, about being so flustered he grabbed the smallest bottle of lube in the store and was too scared to get a bigger one. It was meant to last a good two weeks if used sparingly. 

“Why did you buy lube so close to my _eighteenth birthday_ , Takashi?”

Shiro’s face could toast a marshmallow. He looks away, stammering. “I-It wasn’t like that! We were at the mall and I needed m-more so I figured—“

He yelps when Keith pushes one leg to the side, holding onto the other thigh to spread him open. His breath hitches in his chest, Keith’s gaze pinning him like a butterfly to a board. 

“Did you think of me?” Without him noticing Keith had slicked his fingers with lube, and he teases over Shiro in slow, calculated circles. “Right on the other side of this wall?” 

He jerks his chin to the left, where his room sits, where his bed rests flush against the wall. His desk used to be there, but he had wanted a complete makeover a few years ago. Shiro could’ve moved his bed and desk, could’ve shifted things around so they weren’t so close. 

He never did.

“I used to ruin some of your hookups on purpose,” Keith confesses, working in the first finger. He has to stop and catch his breath, the tight heat almost too much to take. “The ones where I knew you wanted to top. You would get so pissed but you never yelled at me after they left.”

Keith bites his lip, squeezing Shiro’s thigh tighter. “Those nights I’d have my headphones loud, so you’d think I couldn't hear you.” His hips give an involuntary jerk. “And I’d listen to you fuck your hand until you came.” 

Shiro groans in agony, those nights, so frustrating and so vivid now like he’s reliving them. Keith would lie about mom or dad coming home sooner than he thought, only for no one to arrive for hours. Keith never tried to hide his happiness whenever his dates left, unsatisfied, but Shiro just assumed Keith hated having to hide out until they were done. 

“One day I sent Sendak packing.” Shiro forces himself to relax long enough for Keith to push in his middle finger alongside the first. It’s a tight fit, and Shiro grabs the lube on autopilot. 

“That was the first time you got mad at me about that stuff, cause he was gonna let you fuck him.” Keith smirks. “A one time offer, he said. Tonight or nothing.”

“So I made sure you got nothing.”

Shiro plants his feet on the bed and spreads his legs wider, half at Keith even as he scissors his fingers, opening him up. “ _That_ time I knew you did it on purpose, fucking brat. I wanted to lock you in the garage.”

A high breathy giggle has Keith ducking his head. “You pinned me to the wall and got all in my face. Fuck, I was hard before you let me go. But I waited.”

“You were aggressive that night. I kept waiting for you to finish but you just kept _going_. I had never edged before and I swear it felt like I was losing my mind.”

Keith pauses for breath, slicking up three fingers and squeezing the base of his cock with his dry hand to force some clarity back into his brain. 

“But you kept going, didn’t you?” Shiro’s voice takes on that low, gravely timber, the one he uses when he’s flirting. When he’s mad that Keith did something dangerous and grips his arms tight enough to bruise as he pours his heart out over his safety. 

“You didn’t let yourself come until I did, until I let you.” He rolls his hips down on Keith’s fingers, fully hard once more. “You wanted to be good for me that bad, baby?”

Keith swallows, the sound audible in the quiet room. 

“I wanted you to fuck me.”

Shiro’s mind whites out. 

“K-Keith..”

“I wanted to take Sendak’s place. I wanted to be your hand.”

“ _Keith._ ”

“I wanted you so fucking much, Shiro. I was a scrawny little shit and you were so strong and _big_. You could’ve held me down and made me _take it_ —“

Shiro whimpers, shame and need and heat burning him up from the inside. He grips Keith’s bicep and yanks him down into a hard, messy kiss, hooking a knee over his hip. 

“If you’re not in me in the next five seconds,” Shiro says hotly into his mouth. “I’m going to tie you up and ride you until you cry.”

Keith gets to three in his head before Shiro pinches his nipple and twists. 

“Ow!”

“Get on with it, brat!”

Keith bites his lip, fingers caressing Shiro’s hip. He almost doesn’t know what to do with himself despite fantasizing about this moment for far too long. He gazes down at Shiro, something breakable in his expression that leaves him feeling raw. Takashi Shirogane could have anyone he wanted. It doesn’t make any sense why he would pick Keith, the pain in the ass, acne ridden little brother who he was always tripping over. Even their parents teased him about the two of them being glued together. Wasn’t he tired of him? 

Shiro draws him into another kiss, softer this time. “I love you so much, Keith,” he whispers, kissing the center of his forehead. “You’re incredible, baby. I wanna make you feel good. Will you let me?”

Keith nods, kissing him one more time before sitting back on his knees. He wastes the last of the lube and slicks up his cock, swatting away Shiro’s hand when he tries to take over. “If you touch me now I’ll lose it.”

“That’s hot,” Shiro murmurs, eyes hazing out as the head of Keith’s cock rubs up against him. He guide Keith closer with the heel of his foot against his ass cheek, until Keith is pushing past the first tight _tight_ ring of muscle. Shiro is no stranger to the stretch, the burn, and there’s enough lube between them that Keith doesn’t really need to stop. So Shiro doesn’t let him. He keeps encouraging him forward, prodding him deeper, until their hips are pressed together and his balls rest against Shiro’s ass. 

Shiro can tell that Keith is holding his breath. He reaches out, fingers knotting through his hair. “Breathe, baby,” he encourages, flexing his hips. 

_“Holyfuckingshitohmygod.”_ Keith releases everything in one massive gush of words, hastily repositioning himself so that he’s gripping one of Shiro’s massive thighs like a lifeline, his knee thrown over his shoulder. 

“Is this okay?” He asks, begs more like, hips moving without his permission in shallow rolls, like he can’t help himself. His pretty eyes are wide and dark, skin sweaty and flushed to the highest points of his cheeks. Shiro can’t kiss him from this angle, but he tugs him forward until his knee is damn near to his shoulder. 

“Yeah,” Shiro breathes with a laugh, letting his head back against the pillow. “Don’t hold back, okay? I wanna feel it for days.” 

Keith nods, drawing back slowly, eyes glued to where Shiro is wet and pink around his cock. He sinks back in, moaning when Shiro moves to meet him. Keith never pulls all the way out, can hardly bring himself to leave in just the tip. Shiro’s hole is greedy, demanding. 

“Can you,” Keith grunts, finally finding a pace he can manage. He definitely used too much lube, the slick _slap slap slap_ of his hips meeting Shiro’s ass mixing with the huffs of breath he can’t contain. “Stop doing th—aah!”

“Don’t stop, baby,” Shiro moans, working his hips faster. “You feel so fucking good, Keith, knew you would.” Sweat glistens on his chest, collecting in the divots and grooves of his muscles. Keith is hitting just shy of his prostate and if he didn’t know any better he’d swear he was doing it on purpose. 

Keith swallows but he can’t hide his whine. “Y-yeah?” He drops Shiro’s leg, a relief to them both, so he can get closer. He kisses the corner of his mouth, rolling his hips like he can burrow even deeper inside of him. “You been thinking ‘bout me, too?”

Shiro cradles his face and pulls him into a sloppy kiss, licking his way into Keith’s mouth like he owns it. “I’m always thinking about you.” One of his big, big hands follows the curve of Keith’s neck, down his shoulder and along his spine, until it reaches the swell of his ass. He squeezes the flesh hard enough to bruise and urges Keith to move harder. 

His other hand joins the first, dragging him deep into every thrust until it feels like Keith isn’t moving by himself at all. Keith digs his nails into Shiro’s shoulders, gasping and panting as he’s used like a toy. 

_“Takashi!”_

“C’mon baby, almost there, right there, _please!_ ” Shiro’s thick fingers prod against his hole, rubbing fast and hard. Keith cries out to the ceiling, his entire body trembling as he comes without warning. Shiro moans with him, the wet heat of Keith filling him up making his vision blur. He’s never let anyone finish inside of him before, and the fact that it’s Keith, the spark in his heart, the warmth nestled in his chest, the person he loves most in this entire world, has him tipping over the edge to follow. Shiro gets a hand around his cock and it’s over in seconds. 

They stay like that, melting into each other, for what feels like hours. Eventually Shiro coaxes Keith to pull out, but he doesn’t go far once he does. They need to shower again, Shiro especially, as well as gather their clothes. Was the door locked? Was that pizza box on the stove empty? What time were their parents getting home tomorrow? 

They should really probably talk about this. 

Keith wraps his arms around Shiro and presses his face into his pecs, skinny legs holding one of Shiro’s hostage. He’s shaking, quiet little breaths warming his skin, dampness growing every passing moment. 

“I love you so much,” he whispers like a secret, and the shaking gets worse until he’s trembling, his whimpers bleeding into Shiro’s skin and knitting his heart strings into a tangled mess. Shiro hugs him tight, curling them up into a ball of limbs, bending until he can kiss Keith’s forehead. 

“I love you, too, Kitty. Always have, always will.”

 

Maybe that’s all they needed to say. For now.


End file.
